Survenir
by XxFern-Rydel-RosexX
Summary: Colliding. Lying. Fighting. Two will bring them together, one will tear them apart. Victoire Molyneux is the daughter of National Guard General Phillipe Molyneux. Enjolras is a student leading a group in the French Revolution. Vive le France. Vive l'amour. (I do not own Les Miserables, or any of the characters.)


Enjolras never understood why his two comrades and he decided to meet each other in the midst of the market and not just at the ABC Café itself, seeing as that was where they would end up anyway. But, alas, he had ended up pushing his way through crowds of people buying, selling, begging and he was going to be late for the meeting. Marius and Coufeyrac were nowhere to be seen and Enjolras was beginning to wonder if they had left without him. A chorus of childish cheers and laughs sounded behind the flustered man and he knew immediately who it was, not even looking around to check – which would actually have been a good idea. If he had, he would have been able to avoid the collision that occurred only a few seconds later. Enjolras found himself being suddenly jostled sideways as a pair of small hands came into contact with his legs; therefore causing him to fall into another person who was simply minding their own business. From his new position on the floor, Enjolras span in the direction of the children who pushed past him.

"Gavroche!" the flustered man called, "Your manners need work young man!"

Enjolras' attention was then torn from the retreating figure when an airy groan sounded from behind him. He brushed his blond curls from his line of sight as he turned, eyes widening when he saw was he had done. A young woman was attempting to pick up the contents of her now open basket, sprawled across the floor.

"Mademoiselle! My sincerest apologies," the student held out his hand to the woman and she took it, smiling lightly, "I assure you I will have a word with my friend for causing me to push you over."

"Monsieur, do not worry. It was obviously an accident." She replied, picking up her basket and resting it on her arm.

Enjolras looked over her figure. The young woman was wearing a simple light pink dress, which was now slightly scuffed and muddy because of the fall. Her deep brown hair was hanging out of its – what he assumed was previously neat – updo. A cream shawl was splayed over her shoulders and she adjusted it as she looked up at him and he finally saw the whole of her face. Her skin was pale and clear, although her cheeks were tinted a slight rosy pink; he then found himself locking his eyes onto her round ones, the shade of blue almost exactly matching that of his own. A faint blush appeared on the maiden's cheeks and Enjolras quickly averted his gaze, now realising he had been staring. His eyes found a trampled bunch of flowers by their feet and he reached down, picking them up.

"Are these yours Mademoiselle?" He held them out and as she nodded, felt a wave of guilt crash over him, "I am terribly sorry for ruining them. I shall replace them straight away – Monsieur!"

As she realised what this kind man was doing, the young woman began to protest, reaching out and attempting to get a hold on Enjolras' arm, "Monsieur, it really is fine! You do not have to-"

"I would like to Mademoiselle."

Not willing to argue over something as petty as a bouquet, the girl simply stood back and watched as this stranger paid for a bunch of white peonies, after asking the owner of the stall what the most expensive flower was and telling him he would take them. Once the trade was over, Enjolras handed her the bouquet and gave her a light smile – her not knowing she was witnessing something very rare – and she gave him one in return.

"Merci Monsieur, but please, let me give you what it cost." The brunette rummaged around in her basket for her money, but Enjolras reached out and lightly touched her hand to stop her.

"No, my lady, please. There is no need for that." he shook his head, "Now if you will excuse me, I have a meeting I must be attending."

"Of course, have a lovely day Monsieur." Giving him a small nod of her head, she gestured for him to go.

"And you, Mademoiselle."

Victoire Molyneux had never seen such a random act of kindness in her life. She thought about it as she too walked away down the cobbled road, how no one had ever been so lovely to her, not even her own family. Having a Father who is a general in the National Guard was not easy, life at home was strict. Of course she knew her parents loved her, but they were coarse and suffocating and completely and utterly royalist. Because they were well off, they didn't care about anyone else, but they didn't see the world the way their daughter did. Victoire had been making trips into the slums of Saint Michel since she was fifteen years old, giving as much as she could to the poor who lived there, trying to make a difference. It started when she met her friend Éponine all those years ago. The girl's family had recently ended up in poverty and Éponine and her siblings had not eaten in days. Victoire and her governess had been strolling through the streets of Paris when she heard the crying and after seeing them all sitting in an alley, she handed them the few coins she had on her person and the bread she had just brought for herself. Éponine had been one of her closest friends ever since.

It was safe to say that Victoire did all of this in secret. If her parents ever found out she would be in so much trouble, it was like that for all people of the higher class, but recently things had been changing. Students at the university were taking a stand and even Victoire's cousin had joined the republicans. He had moved from his home and offered for her to stay with him, but she refused. This wasn't because she was not dedicated, but because the young woman was terrified of becoming like the people she tried to help – for that would mean she could not continue her deeds or speak up when the time came.

"Mademoiselle Victoire!" A soft voice called out, pulling Victoire from her thoughts and she turned to great the woman who looked of a similar age to her.

"Jeanne," the brunette greeted the blonde, linking their arms together as they strolled, "I must thank you again for joining me on these outings every week. And especially for helping me give these people what they deserve."

"My lady, it is my duty to accompany you and also, I enjoy it, these people being happy is something I hope will become permanent soon."

Jeanne was Victoire's personal servant, but she treated her more like a sister than that, because who was to say that Victoire was better than Jeanne? No one. The two girls had known each other since they were young and they both held the same beliefs and dreams in life, they were practically the same person. Their only differences were their appearances and their families.

"Now, we must make haste, I have a feast I'm going to use to feed these people in just a few hours."

XX

That evening, Victoire was standing by her Father's side, donning a beautiful light pink gown that fell to the floor in ruffles and a purple sash pulled tightly around her waist; her hair now fell around her shoulders in light curls, with the front pieces pulled back to highlight her 'angelic' face – in the words of her Mother. Although she looked beautiful, the young Mademoiselle felt uncomfortable and not unlike a fraud. Her mind was solely focused on one thing – taking some of the food and sneaking out to give it to those in Saint Michel. Having done it many times before, Victoire wasn't nervous about stealing the food, but about finding the time to sneak away. The house the feast was being held in was grand and large, with many rooms to confuse and distract her parents when she left, but it was also unfamiliar to Victoire, which could be a problem. If she went into the wrong room, bumped into someone, it could all be over.

The eating had ceased and the dancing had become, with all guests occupied, Victoire took the time as her cue to escape. She filled the bag she had brought with her to the brim, pretending to be looking over all the delicacies as she did so before edging to side of the room. Just as the young girl was about to get out the door, her Mother appeared in front of her and grabbed her arm.

"Victoire, your Father and I have someone for you to meet."

Her eyes widened and she glanced around for somewhere to hide the bag, quickly tucking it underneath a table, so it was hidden by the table cloth and followed her Mother through the room. Victoire spotted her Father in the far corner, another man beside him. This other man was tall and stocky, with thick black hair pulled back on his head and a square face. He looked young, but quite a bit older than the twenty-three year old Victoire. Seeing this man made the aforementioned worry. Her parents were introducing her to a man, which most likely meant they wanted her to court him.

"Ah, Victoire!" her Father called jovially, "Monsieur Bonnaire, it is my honour to introduce you to my daughter, Victoire. Victoire, this is a close friend of mine, Monsieur."

Monsieur Bonnaire reached forward and took Victoire's hand in his, leaning down and placing a kiss on her knuckles, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mademoiselle."

Victoire smiled politely, lowering into a slight curtsey, "The pleasure is mine Monsieur."

Out of the corner of her eye, Victoire could see her Father giving her Mother a knowing smile and her Mother nodding slightly in return. She had overheard them talking about this for a while now, about how they needed to find her a suitor before her twenty-fourth birthday; the birthday that was in June, which was two months or so away. However Victoire didn't want a marriage like her parents' – structured, arranged. She wanted to fall in love. Marrying for everything else but love didn't make sense to Victoire, though not much about the lives of the rich made sense to her, really.

"Would you like to dance, Mademoiselle?" Monsieur Bonnaire held out his hand and even though she wanted to leave, as she glanced at her parents, Victoire knew she couldn't really say no.

"Of course Monsieur."

He pulled her into the centre of the dance floor and Victoire tried not to show her discomfort as he placed his hand on her waist. She forced a smile as they stepped to the beat of the music, but it wasn't long before she felt the man's hand slowly travelling lower down her waist as he leaned further towards her. A sick feeling came over her – this man had just met her and he had to be at least ten years her senior. Pushing him away lightly, Victoire stepped back, needing to get away.

"Excusez-moi Monseiur, I must go to the ladies' room."

She didn't wait for his reply before speeding away, going back to the table she hid the bag under. Checking no one was looking, she pulled the bounty of food out and slipped through the door. The bathroom was easy to find and to Victoire's luck, it had a large window that was unlocked. Victoire pushed herself through the gap after setting the bag down on the cobbles and made sure she would be able to reopen the window before setting off.

It didn't take long for Victoire to get to the slums of Saint Michel, so some of the food was still vaguely warm for the people she handed it out to. After spending some time in the streets, the charitable young woman made her way down to Gavroche's elephant to deliver some food to him and his boys – Gavroche himself apologising for making the stranger knock her over earlier in the day. From there, she dropped the last pieces to Gavroche's family – the Thénardiers – Éponine trying to give her something in return, like always; and like always, it didn't work.

As she walked down the road that connected the two halves of the town o one another, Victoire thought about how close the poor were to all these riches, yet they themselves couldn't even dream of owning anything like them. She didn't understand how it had ended up that way, because in the beginning, everyone must have been equal. And now people were only equal when they were dead. When she was younger, her Father would tell her reasons for poverty that she now realised were just ways to get her to stop talking about the subject. It was obvious that he didn't know either. And she wished that the day for freedom would come soon, she could feel it coming, it was just too slow.

 _"In my life_

 _There are so many questions and answers_

 _That somehow seem wrong_

 _In my life_

 _There are times when I catch in the silence_

 _The sigh of a faraway song_

 _And it sings_

 _Of a world that I long to see_

 _Out of reach_

 _Just a whisper away_

 _Waiting for me- Oof!"_

Victoire felt herself being pushed into the wall beside her and hoped that her dress would not get muddy – it was hard enough to explain about the one from that morning.

"Mademoiselle! I am so sorry, I tripped on the cobbles…" The stranger trailed off and Victoire looked up at him, "Bonjour again Mademoiselle."

It was the man who had bought her the flowers. Even though it was dark, Victoire could make out his blond curls and red jacket easily.

"Bonsoir Monsieur. And it is perfectly fine, you may however need to work on your balance." She found herself laughing slightly.

"Yes, I believe I may. Tell me, Mademoiselle, did the flowers make it in one piece?" The man began to walk and gestured for Victoire to do the same.

"They did, yes, I honestly can not thank you enough for them." She didn't know why she was following him, but something just made her feel safe, "What are you doing out in the dark so late, Monsieur?"

"I could ask the same to you," he chucked, "I had a meeting with my friends."

"I was just handing out the contents of this," Victoire held up the bag, "the feast my parents dragged me to was full of food no one would miss, so I brought it down here."

"Remarkable." Victoire heard the man mutter under his breath, "So you believe in equality?"

Looking him over, not sure whether to reply, Victoire suddenly noticed the small rosette-like pin on the man's jacket. It was the colours of France – he was a republican like her.

"Oh yes, Monsieur! And it seems you do too." She gestured to his pin and he nodded, a small smile appearing.

"Yes. Me and my friends, Les Amis de l'ABC, we are preparing to fight."

Behind them, a clock bell rang out and Victoire turned towards it, gasping when she saw the time.

"I must go, it was a pleasure to talk to you Monsieur! I hope to continue this conversation soon!"

And she ran away down the road, not even thinking about how she didn't know this man's name, nor how to find him again. All that was going through her mind was how she had to get back to the feast. Once she made it to the building, Victoire thanked God the window was still open and scrambled inside, tucking the bag in the waistline of her undergarments and making her way back into the hall. Victoire immediately found a girl of a similar age to talk to and looked around for her parents. Not two seconds later, Monsieur and Madame Molyneux emerged from the crowd and Victoire excused herself from the conversation to act out the last bit of her plan.

"Mother! Father! Where have you been?" she exclaimed, pretending to make a fuss, "I have been looking all over for you!"

"Victoire, we have been looking for you!" her Mother placed a hand on her shoulder and let out a sigh, "Well, it's alright, I suppose. We must be going home now."

"Yes, no matter, everything has worked out anyway, let us go." Monsieur Molyneux took both their arms and led them outside.

As they walked to the carriage, Victoire became very confused. Her Father had said everything worked out, what did he mean by that? It was just a feast and then they found her after she ran off, it wasn't like that didn't happen all the time – what had happened that was so good when she was gone?


End file.
